


A Taste of Home

by Sixthlight



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Holidays, Mentions of Violence, Nostalgia, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27717308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixthlight/pseuds/Sixthlight
Summary: Nile crossed the Canadian-US border into the country of her birth for the first time in six years, late one November, and realised that two days from now was going to be Thanksgiving.
Relationships: Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova & Nile Freeman
Comments: 20
Kudos: 288





	A Taste of Home

**Author's Note:**

> no violence in this fic directly - but there is a reference to canon-typical violence because, well, these characters.

Nile crossed the Canadian-US border into the country of her birth for the first time in six years, late one November – not nearly as cold as it should have been in New England this time of year, thanks, climate change – and realised that two days from now was going to be Thanksgiving.

Andy said “What’s that?” and Nicky said “I think it’s a feast day” and Joe said “Yes, the one with the turkey and the pumpkin pie!” and Nile said “Have _none_ of you spent any time in the US before?”

“Oh, plenty,” said Joe, shifting uncomfortably. They’d crossed the border in a rental car on a back road, relying on Copley’s instructions to avoid the drones and patrols, and there clearly wasn’t quite enough room in the back for his long legs. Andy was driving, of course, and the boys had graciously ceded Nile the front seat. She was tired, and hadn’t argued. “We were first here in – 1582? Or was it 1592?”

“That was Mexico, it’s not quite the same,” said Nicky. “More than a hundred years after that, for Nile’s lands.”

The three older immortals started bickering about what counted as the United States of America, exactly, before Nile said “Okay, okay. My point is – have none of you ever had Thanksgiving?”

She knew they weren’t picky about holidays, but they weren't consistent either; their wandering life didn't lend itself to that. In her years with them they’d celebrated May Day and Eid al-Fitr and Saturnalia. It depended where they were, and what they were doing, and the moods that struck them. Nicky had come to church with her for three Christmases in a row, three different churches in three different countries, and then last year said simply “No, not this time, thank you.”

“I think we lifted some extra rations off an American army unit in Vietnam, one November,” said Andy. “Apart from that? No.”

“Where’s Copley got us this time?” Nile asked.

“A house,” said Nicky. “Rented. We are being tourists again, until we get our local identities organized.”

“There’s a few missions we could do. We’ll talk about it later,” said Andy. “I figured we’d take a week off first. Nothing’s on fire…that we can help with.”

“Most of California’s on fire, right now, but okay,” said Nile. “Okay.”

“You wanna do Thanksgiving, huh?” Andy glanced over at her, with a sharp smile that made Nile feel known, but not exposed.

“Can we help?” Joe asked from the back seat.

“Uh,” said Nile. “Let’s see.”

*

Nile had never done anything like a full Thanksgiving meal before, partly because until she’d been deployed her job had mostly been to wash dishes and keep some of her younger cousins from getting overexcited, and partly because there had been a strict family hierarchy of who got to cook what, and she hadn’t yet been invited to join it before – before.

She decided to keep it simple, the real classics; after all, there were only four of them. Turkey, definitely. Green bean casserole. Mac’n’cheese. Yams. Pumpkin pie – not the Thanksgiving dessert of _her_ childhood, but Joe had mentioned it specifically. She was fully prepared to buy the pie crust – she knew her limits – but Nicky put his foot down on that, having had to endure the purchase of ready-made cranberry sauce and canned pumpkin, so she let him take care of it. Nicky was far and away the best cook of the other three, followed closely by Joe. Andy wouldn’t burn anything, but she just didn’t care enough to get creative. Nile had eaten a _lot_ of re-heated soup when Andy was on cooking duty. 

The holiday cabin Copley had found for them was much more comfortable than where they’d been sleeping for the last three weeks – Nile was getting a bedroom to herself, a rare luxury – but the kitchen was tiny, clearly intended for vacationers who weren’t the home-cooking type, and preparations spilled out onto the dining table. Nile had been half-hoping someone else would take over, unused to taking center stage for this, but they all looked to her for instructions and she did her best to rise to the occasion. She felt absurdly trusted.

The biggest problem would have been that both of the kitchen knives provided were absolutely terrible – Joe threw them aside, saying “No, and _no_ ” – except, what was she thinking, her family traveled armed to the teeth at all times. Andy chopped yams with a knife Nile was ninety percent sure she’d seen her gut someone with. She forcibly decided not to think about it.

“Don’t worry, this one’s new,” said Andy. “I have standards.”

“Uh-huh,” said Nile. She could hear Nicky chuckling behind her as he worked on the pie crust.

“I do!”

“Do you think these are halal?” Joe asked, holding up the bag of marshmallows.

“Wait, probably not,” said Nile. “Never mind, we can leave them out.”

“I didn’t want to criticize,” said Nicky, “but I didn’t think they were going to go very well with the pie.”

“They’re for the yams,” said Nile.

“The yams are for the sweet course as well?”

“No, they’re part of the main. I'm not doing sweet potato pie.”

“Put them in, I just won’t eat the yams,” said Joe, tossing the bag at her. “This is your holiday.”

“You eat marshmallows with the _turkey_?” Nicky said, his voice noticeably rising. “That is – that is very interesting. I don't think I've had anything like that since, oh, fourteen hundred.”

“My holiday, my rules,” Nile retorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” Joe said, and winked.

*

By the time everything was prepped, they were all ready to lie down on the couch for a bit. Unfortunately, the couch wasn’t that big, so Nicky took one end, Joe stretched out with his head in Nicky’s lap, Nile compromised by wedging herself under Joe’s feet, and Andy just spread-eagled herself on the floor with a cushion from the armchair under her head.

“You could take the armchair,” said Joe, clearly enjoying his overlordship of the largest piece of furniture.

“No,” said Andy, who Nile had learned was mildly allergic to furniture. “This is better.”

“Someone give me the remote,” Nile said. “It’s football time.”

Joe perked up noticeably at that, and noticeably sagged when Nile found ESPN. “Oh. _American_ football.” Nicky poked him in the shoulder. “Ow.”

“So,” Nicky said. “We eat all the food, and then…?”

“Then we watch some more football,” said Nile. “And before we eat, we say what we’re thankful for.”

“Huh,” said Nicky. “Okay. That’s easy.”

“Now?” Andy asked. “Or right before we eat?”

“Right before,” said Nile, which didn’t stop Andy saying “Because you know what I’m grateful for right now? Carpet.”

“That’s terrible.” Nile threw the other cushion at her. “You have about an hour to come up with something better.”

Joe was obviously composing a speech in his head already, drumming his fingers against his thigh. Nile decided not to interrupt him.

“And that’s it?” Nicky persisted. “There’s nothing else you need, for this to be Thanksgiving?”

Nile had half-expected, when they’d been in the supermarket, that this was going to turn out to be a terrible idea, make her homesick all over again. Like Christmas three years ago, when she’d come home from church with Nicky – they’d been in Germany at the time – and cried into Nicky’s shoulder for an hour, soggy and miserable, while Joe brought her mulled wine and Andy dropped a box of tissues in her lap.

But it wasn’t like that at all. There was a good meal cooking; she was warm and safe and content; this wasn’t the family she’d grown up with, the one she would always miss, but they’d spent today telling her they loved her with every chopped vegetable and half-serious complaint.

“Nah,” Nile said. “I’ve got everything I need. Thanks for asking.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Nile Freeman Week on Tumblr - reposting now because it’s the right time of year!


End file.
